


Madrid's Choices- Lancer's Price

by Sandysha



Category: Lancer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandysha/pseuds/Sandysha
Summary: Episode tag for Homecoming/High Riders. Johnny must make a decision. Stay or go. Giving up Madrid is the price Murdoch is asking of him. Johnny has worked hard for his reputation and isn't willing to pay the price. Choices he made in his life led him to this moment. Is he willing to make one more choice; to pay the price? Also posted on Lancerlovers website
Kudos: 4





	Madrid's Choices- Lancer's Price

** Don't own them. Wish we did.

** Episode tag for The Homecoming/High Riders.

** This story was inspired by the snippet in Chapter 2, written by Mary Branch.

** Many thanks to Doc for her untiring direction and beta and to Susan and Alice Marie for helping with the beta. I want to thank Rosie and Flynnie for their suggestions. If there's a mistake, it's all mine.

..

Co-authored by Sandy Sharp (SandySha) and Mary Branch (Mary B)

..

Chapter 1

(Written by SandySha)

There's no way to put into words the way a man feels when he's riding hell-bent with the wind in his face and a gun in his hand. It's a tingling sensation that starts down deep and works its way through his entire being.

It was the same feeling he got every time he stepped into a street, Colt strapped to his hip, facing another man; heart beating faster, and blood rushing to his head.

He felt it now. The same energy coursing through horse and rider, as they raced down the hill and along the road toward the Lancer hacienda; the Palomino's hooves pounding against the ground.

Johnny Madrid felt alive, more alive than he had in months.

He hadn't felt this way since before the Rurales captured him. He sure as hell hadn't felt it during the three months he'd spent rotting in the Mexican prison waiting to die, or when the Rurales Captain tried to break him.

He'd felt something that day kneeling in the dirt, waiting for the firing squad, but what was it… fear? No… yes… hell, he didn't know. Yes, he'd felt fear, but he wasn't going to let the Rurales know. If they'd known he was afraid they would have won; they would have broken him. No one broke Johnny Madrid. No one.

Johnny remembered the echoing report of the firing squad signaling the end of Antonio. He tried to control his breathing and racing heart when the man's lifeless body fell to the ground and rolled down the hill.

Knowing he was next, Johnny's heart felt like it would explode in his chest. The feeling, whatever it was, peaked when the Rurales Lieutenant pointed his gun at him and yelled out, _"Levantate!"._

The sensation ebbed slightly when the short man in a suit topped the rise in a buckboard, screaming, _"Hold up there. Wait up."_

Johnny's heart had skipped a beat and his breath hitched when he heard the fat gringo say, _"I'm looking for a man named Madrid, Johnny Madrid."_ When he said, _"Your father wants to see you,"_ Johnny felt his knees weaken.

It had been three weeks since he snatched the Pinkerton Agent's pistol and fought his way to freedom. What had he told the Agent? _"For a thousand dollars, I'd even ride to hell."_

Now, he rode like the devil was after him; maybe he was. He didn't know what the word was to describe it, but the tingling sensation was back, and he could feel his blood pulsing. He felt alive.

..********..

Up on the hill, he and Pardee had talked. Yeah, they'd talked, right before all hell broke loose.

" _Day?"_

" _Whatcha want Madrid?"_

" _It's not Madrid."_

" _What?"_

" _This is my land, and I want you to get off."_

" _Your land?"_

Johnny gave Day a slight nod.

Confused, Day turned to look at the Lancer hacienda and back to Johnny. A lopsided grin signaled he'd figured it out.

" _You another Lancer?"_

It had felt good to say the words, _"This is my land."_ It was a feeling he hadn't felt in…. well, he'd never felt like that before. But he hesitated a split second when Pardee asked, _"You another Lancer?"_

Was he? Was he a Lancer?

Before he could answer, he heard Coley move forward. Spinning to his right, he brought Pardee's Lieutenant down.

Just as fast, he turned to answer Pardee's question. It was easier to answer Day with a bullet than with words. Maybe that's the only answer he had because he really didn't know if he was a Lancer, or even if he wanted to be one. He knew he was Madrid, that's who he was and always would be.

Throwing himself onto the Palomino's back, he began the headlong charge down the hill toward the hacienda.

Turning in the saddle, Johnny saw Pardee and his men giving chase, just like he'd planned.

Once he reached the road, he turned and fired. Johnny saw a man fall from his horse. His heart pounded as he urged the palomino to move faster. Turning again, he fired twice. This time two more men went down almost as one.

Leaving the road and cutting across the field, he made directly for the house. There was no time to fire again. He needed to clear the fences and get to the safety of the hacienda.

..********..

Jumping the first fence, his horse stumbled. Johnny's heart missed a beat as he hung onto the saddle. When the Palomino continued his headlong race toward the house, Johnny let out the breath he'd been holding.

The second fence was easier. The horse had hit his stride.

The hacienda was closer now. Johnny knew in his heart Scott was there waiting with a trap ready to be sprung.

When the bullet found him, it took his breath away. Arms flung high, he fell backward off the speeding horse, landing hard on his back before rolling onto his side. Johnny felt his ribs give, but it was when his head hit the ground that his world exploded.

The battle was still going strong when he forced his eyes open.

Every part of his body hurt, but he didn't have time to worry about it. Pardee's men were moving toward the house and the garden walls. Surprised he was still holding his Colt he tried to focus. How many shots had he fired? Six… no, five, two on the hill and three on the road. He needed to reload.

He forced his left hand to reach for his gun belt. Feeling for the bullets, he slid five into his hand. Hissing in pain, he took a breath before flipping the cylinder of the Colt open with his right thumb. Inching his left hand toward his right, he dumped the spent bullets and reloaded. Letting his left hand settle beside him once more, he waited for the right moment to act.

One of Pardee's men jumped Johnny's still body, not knowing it was the last thing he would ever do. Johnny came up shooting. The man went down. Five more of Pardee's men quickly followed the first.

Fighting a wave of dizziness, Johnny felt a hand take hold of his right arm. He looked up at the face of his brother. Scott had run out to help him.

' _Imagine that._ _His_ _greenhorn, eastern dandy, tin solder of a brother had left the safety of the garden walls to pull him out of the line of fire.'_

Scott didn't say a word as he dragged Johnny to the oak tree in front of the hacienda. The pain in his back and ribs burned through him as Scott struggled to get him to safety.

Out of nowhere, Johnny felt another hand on his left arm. He was surprised to see Cipriano. He wasn't used to someone helping him. In his world, it was every man for himself and do it to them before they did it to you.

Struggling to stay conscious, Johnny saw Pardee taking aim at Scott. Even if the Colt weren't empty, he didn't have the strength to lift it.

"Look out!"

Scott turned, leveled his rifle, and fired. Pardee started to fall. It was when Scott fired a second shot, the leader of the High Rider's jerked and fell to the ground.

Seeing Day go down, Johnny felt nothing. It was no great loss. To him, Pardee was the scum he'd fought hard not to become.

With Pardee gone, his men ran like frightened rabbits.

Johnny holstered his gun. Bracing himself against the tree, he pushed himself to his knees. Briefly closing his eyes, Johnny tried to stop his world from spinning. When he dared to open them again, he found Scott standing over him.

Johnny gave Scott a faint smile, trying to hide the pain that was shooting through his back and ribs. He knew he needed to say something.

"Good shooting."

Scott's smile lite his face and went straight to his light blue eyes.

"Thanks, Brother. We'd about given up on you, boy."

Johnny answered with a broader smile and a soft drawl. "Well, you had your plan, and I had mine."

Getting shot in the back hadn't been part of the plan, but … well, hell you can't plan for everything. It had been his plan, his choice, and he'd pay the price for it like he always did.

Johnny needed to get up. Bracing himself against the tree, he pushed up on legs that were quickly weakening. Hiding his pain from Scott, Johnny kept his eyes down. He looked up as he felt Scott's hand on first his arm and then grasping his jacket.

"Take your time. Take your time," Scott said, steadying him.

Suddenly, smells started overpowering him. Johnny's stomach churned, and he fought the bile building in his throat. The coppery smell of blood and the pungent odor of gunpowder filled the air. It was his own blood he was smelling as it soaked his white shirt and started pooling around the waistband of his pants.

Johnny took a deep breath and looked toward the house, feeling a slight shudder. The old man and the girl were walking toward him.

Straightening, he looked at Scott.

"I can make it."

He hoped it was true. He didn't want any of them to see Madrid weak.

Johnny started walking; one step, then two. He could feel his world tilting. By the eighth short step, Johnny didn't have the strength to fight it any longer. Everything around him was fading to black.

Vaguely, he felt his brother catch him before the welcoming darkness took him.

.

Chapter 2

(Written by Mary Branch)

The words rolled around and around in his head. He couldn't quite remember who had said them, or why it mattered so much.

" _You drink, don't you."_

" _I don't care what you heard."_

" _I don't know what to think of you."_

" _You have your mother's temper…"_

His mother! Who would dare to talk about his mother? Who?

Damn, it all came back.

" _I don't care…"_

" _I don't know…"_

" _I don't…"_

"Johnny!" A different voice broke through the litany. "Johnny, wake up."

Wake up? Why? To face the pain? To face the rejection? No.

"Yes, brother. Wake up."

Damn. He said it out loud? He wasn't in control. For Johnny Madrid, control was everything.

"I know you're awake. Open your eyes."

Pushy bastard. Oops. Hope he didn't say that out loud.

"Actually, I'm reasonably sure they were married, so my legitimacy is not in question."

He opened his eyes at that and frowned at the grinning face hovering over him.

"What?"

"Are you awake?"

"Now I am!"

He rubbed his right hand over his face. The movement pulled his ribs and made his head spin. He closed his eyes again.

"Go away, Scott."

"Sorry." Scott didn't sound particularly sorry. "The doctor said to wake you every few hours to make sure you are aware."

Johnny gave a resigned sigh. "Aware of what?"

"Your surroundings. Recent events. Your name."

"I know who I am and I know where I am," Johnny glared at his brother. "Happy? Now leave me alone."

There was a pause, but he knew Scott hadn't left the room. When he spoke again, Scott's tone was less teasing and more concerned.

"The doctor left pain medication…"

"I'm fine. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Are you sure you want to?"

He looked at Scott but didn't answer.

"You appeared to be dreaming."

Having a nightmare, he meant. He thought back. It didn't seem like his usual ones. He wasn't panting or sweating…or screaming. He didn't feel panicked or afraid. He felt…disappointed. Sad. Alone.

"I'm fine."

"Glad to hear it. I'm totally convinced."

"What do you want, Boston?"

"I want to know my brother is all right."

Johnny stared at him.

"I got shot off my horse, I have a bullet hole in my back, I got a busted head, bruised ribs, and my _brother_ is annoying the hell out of me."

"But you're fine."

"Just another day. Except for the brother part." He tried to glare at Scott, but the man just continued to smile. "I'm going to sleep."

"Alright. See you in a couple of hours."

Johnny sighed and drifted back to sleep.

It seemed only a moment later that someone was calling his name again. But it wasn't Scott.

"Johnny. Wake up, son."

Son? Dammit. That meant it was _him_. He didn't really want to open his eyes, but if he didn't, the man wouldn't leave him alone.

"I'm awake," he mumbled. "I'm Johnny Madrid, I got shot off my horse, and I'm in the house at Lancer. Can I sleep now?"

There was no answer. He risked opening his eyes to find out what was going on. He found Murdoch frowning at him.

"You're Johnny Lancer."

Johnny sighed again. "Fine. Lancer. Good night."

"Would you like a drink?"

That made him think of the first thing his father ever said to him. And he wasn't sure how he felt about it. But still, a shot of something would be good.

"What have you got?"

"I meant water."

"Oh. Right. Sure." He accepted the glass to his lips, sipping it slowly, knowing a head injury could make him lose it.

"Probably good it's just water," Murdoch commented. "Whiskey's not a good idea yet."

Johnny handed the glass back. His father didn't even remember the first night here he had asked for tequila. He had to wonder why that bothered him.

"Any reason I can't go back to sleep?" His tone was cold, and he didn't care.

"No. That's fine. We'll…"

"Wake me in a couple of hours. I got it."

He closed his eyes, hoping he could go back to sleep.

Sleep, that's what he needed. He was tired. Tired of a lot of things, but mostly he was tired of trying to figure out why this old man got under his skin so easy. This man. Murdoch Lancer. His father.

He took a deep breath and tried to relax. What did it matter what Murdoch Lancer thought or didn't think of him? He had gone his whole life without a father. He didn't need one now.

No, it seemed clear he wasn't what the old man had bargained for. He wanted a son like Scott. A son he wouldn't be ashamed to introduce to his friends.

" _I don't know what to think of you…"_

He would never let his father know how those words hurt. Never.

He had his listening money. Pardee was dead. There was no reason to stay. Was there?

No, he would rest up a bit and move on like always. Madrid always moved on.

.

Chapter 3

(Written by SandySha)

Johnny tried to open his eyes. Wasn't that what he'd been told to do? Yes, he was sure of it. They'd woken him so many times and asked the same questions, that he knew by heart what to say.

This time something was different. He was hot and couldn't seem to catch his breath or open his eyes. Each breath brought pain to his chest and wave after wave of searing pain to his back. He knew he had a fever.

There were voices, more than one. Johnny strained to hear what they said. Something about the fever being too high. He could have told them that if they'd asked, but no one was asking him questions anymore.

Struggling to open his eyes wasn't working. Exhausted, he knew that if he just let go, the pain would go away. Yes, that's what he'd do. He'd let go; go back into the darkness where there was no pain, no rejection, no…no anything.

..********..

Climbing up through the long tunnel of darkness, Johnny could see light at the end. He had no idea how long he'd been away from the light, but he knew it was time to wake up.

Opening his eyes, he had to close them quickly. The room was bright, much too bright. Trying again, he slowly opened his eyes. It took a few moments to focus.

He could feel a cool breeze coming through the window. It felt good. He was still hot, but not like he had been.

Turning his head, he looked around the room. In the chair next to the bed, sat his brother. Wasn't it the old man who was there the last time?

Before he could open his mouth to say anything, Johnny heard footsteps in the hall. From the footfall, he knew it was his father coming back. Not having the strength to face the man, Johnny closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

"Anything?" Johnny heard Murdoch ask.

"No." Scott sighed.

"The fever's down. He should be waking up. Maybe the head injury is worse than Sam thought."

Johnny could hear the concern in his father's voice.

Johnny wondered who Sam was. There was a vague memory of an older man who'd tended him. Sam? Maybe he was the doctor.

"Sam said he'd be back this afternoon," Scott answered. "Johnny was aware when we were waking him every few hours. He said his head hurt, but it didn't sound like he was having problems."

"I know, but the fever brought on those seizures. There could be damage now that wasn't there before."

' _Seizures? He'd had seizures?'_

"Do you think he'll stay?" Scott's question came like a bolt out of the blue.

Johnny could tell Scott was standing now, moving to the window. There was a long pause before Murdoch answered.

"I don't know, son. I don't know that he'll want to, even for a third of the ranch. He was so angry that first day and when he walked out the next day… I don't understand him, and I don't know how to reach him. How do I make him realize how much I want him to stay?"

"I told you what he said about his mother. He believes you'd kicked them out."

"That's a lie!" Murdoch's voice rose higher than he intended. In a softer voice, "I told you that. I didn't kick them out. I loved Maria and my boy. God, I wish she'd left him with me."

"The fact is, Sir, she didn't leave him here. He grew up believing you didn't want him. I could see the doubt in his face when Teresa told him that day by the river that she had left of her own accord. You have to make him believe you wanted him then, and you want him now."

The silence lasted so long Johnny began to wonder if there was ever going to be an answer. Johnny guessed the old man was thinking it over. Did he want the son who'd shown up? Who in their right mind would want a gunfighter for a son?

"Scott, you're new to the west. I know you'd never heard of Johnny Madrid before two weeks ago. Johnny Mad…, your brother has a reputation that may make it hard for him to stay here or anywhere for any length of time."

"I've heard the vaqueros talking. They describe him as some sort of myth or a legend. Surely, you don't believe all the things they say about him? The fact is, Johnny is not Madrid any longer. He's Johnny Lancer now."

Hearing Murdoch sigh, Johnny wanted to laugh out loud. Murdoch knew what Scott couldn't. Johnny was always going to be Madrid. There was no Johnny Lancer; there hadn't been in a very long time.

"Yes, he is John Lancer. We just have to make him see that. If … when he comes back to us, we'll make sure he stays with us," Murdoch answered with conviction.

Johnny tried to wrap his mind around what his father said. John Lancer? Could he become John Lancer and let Johnny Madrid fade away? Was that who he was? He didn't believe it for a second, but he was too tired to think about it.

Johnny let himself slip away again. Better to be in the darkness right now than in the light. He needed time; time to decide who he was.

.

Chapter 4

(Written by SandySha)

Murdoch Lancer had paced the floor of his son's bedroom so long he could have walked to Stockton and back. It had been eleven days since the battle with Pardee, eleven days since his youngest son was shot in the back and fell from his horse.

After Johnny was carried into the house, Maria and Teresa immediately took over until Sam could get there.

"Senor Scott put your hermano on the table in the kitchen." Maria was already leading the way.

Scott looked confused but followed the older woman into the kitchen.

"Sam uses the kitchen table to operate on when he has to," Murdoch explained as he followed his son.

"On his stomach, Scott," Teresa instructed as she handed Maria a pair of scissors.

Scott and Murdoch gently rolled the wounded man onto his stomach. Johnny showed no sign that he felt any of it.

Maria took the scissors and started cutting away Johnny's jacket and white shirt. The moment the bloody clothing fell away, exposing the boy's back, there was a collective gasp. The signs of severe abuse became evident. Fading bruises, combined with new ones from the fall covered Johnny's back and shoulders. More shocking than the bruising were the long-raised welts caused by a whip.

Shaking herself, Teresa began cleaning the blood from Johnny's back. She'd helped many times with injuries and bullet wounds, but this time there were tears in her eyes.

Maria placed a bandage over the wound to try to stop the bleeding. Leaning back, she shook her head. She knew the nino looked too thin, but until now she had no idea how malnourished he was.

Murdoch didn't know what had happened. The last word from the Pinkerton agent in Mexico was that Johnny had been found and was coming to Lancer. A full report was to follow.

On the first day after removing the bullet, it seemed he would be alright. They had woken him several times to talk. He'd been aware of his surroundings and even angry at being repeatedly awakened.

On the second day, a fever started. Johnny's poor physical condition and prior injuries were a concern. As his temperature rose higher and higher, Sam voiced fears they might lose him.

The final Pinkerton report had come only a few days ago while Johnny was still fighting the raging fever.

Murdoch sat by his son's bed, reading the report. By the time he'd finished, his hands were shaking. That's where Scott found him hours later, staring at his youngest son with the report scattered on the floor around him.

Scott hadn't asked. He picked up the fallen pages and sat in a chair near the window. It was when he'd read the last paragraph, on the last page, he'd uttered only two words, "My God."

Murdoch had looked at Scott's pale face. Then they both turned to stare at the fever-ridden boy in front of them.

They hadn't talked about it yet. There would be time for that. Right now, all Murdoch Lancer wanted was for his son to wake up.

..********..

Sam Jenkins stood beside Johnny's bed. Cocking his head, Sam's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. With the fever all but gone, his patient should have woken by now.

Sam raised the boy's limp wrist, frowning when he felt a steady pulse. He had his suspicions. Lifting one of Johnny's eyelids, Sam smiled.

Wiping the smile from his face, Sam looked at the concerned father and brother standing behind him. He thought for a moment before speaking.

"I need to examine him and change his dressing. Murdoch, will you and Scott wait for me downstairs?"

"I'll help you." Scott took a step forward.

"I can handle it. You two are exhausted. Go down, get something to eat, have a drink. I'll be down shortly. I'll let you know how my patient is doing."

Murdoch and Scott reluctantly left. When the door closed behind them, Sam turned back to the bed. Opening his bag, he took out a small bottle of smelling salts. Opening the bottle, he placed it under his young patient's nose.

Johnny had been sleeping when the Doctor, Murdoch, and Scott entered the room. Their voices woke him. As he'd been doing all day, he pretended to be sleeping. When the Doctor lifted his eyelid, he knew it wouldn't be long before he was found out.

After Murdoch and Scott left, Johnny waited. He expected the Doctor to call him on his deceit. He never expected to be jolted upright by the smell of ammonia.

Coughing and gasping for air, Johnny came straight up, waving his hand in front of his nose.

"What the hell." Johnny coughed, then groaned as the stitches in his back pulled.

"Nice of you to finally join us." Sam smiled as he re-corked the bottle in his hand and returned it to his bag.

Johnny glared at Sam. The Doctor only broadened his smile.

"Now, do you want to tell me why you've been pretending? How long have you been awake?"

Sam moved to sit in the chair near the bed.

"Just today, I guess." Johnny adjusted his shoulders, trying to get comfortable and hissed in pain for his effort. "Didn't feel like talking to them."

"You do know you're going to have to talk to them at some point. Your family has questions."

"Questions? What kind of questions?" Johnny stared at Sam.

"You'll have to ask them or better yet, let them ask you. I don't believe you and I have been formally introduced. I'm Sam Jenkins. The only Doctor in this part of the valley."

Johnny nodded. "Figured you were the Doc. I'm…"

"Oh, I know who you are. I brought you into this world, John."

Johnny's head snapped up with a surprised look on his face.

"That's right. I've known you since the moment you came into this world, screaming and kicking. I was the first to lay a hand on your bottom."

"Wouldn't try that now, Doc."

Sam chuckled. "No, suppose not. So, do you want to tell me the reason you've been playing possum?"

"I don't know Doc. I don't know what to say to them. You said you know who I am. Hell, I don't even know who I am."

Sam looked at the young man's downturned face.

"What do you mean, you don't know who you are? You're…"

"No, Doc. I'm not John Lancer, haven't been for a long time. Don't ever remember being him. Don't know that I can ever be him. I don't know I can be what the old man wants in a son."

Johnny sighed, then looked up at Sam. "I'm Johnny Madrid, Doc. Madrid is all I know."

Sam couldn't help himself. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder.

"What do you want me to tell them?" Sam knew he was going to have to tell Murdoch and Scott something. "You'll have to face them at some point."

Johnny nodded. "You're right. I have to face them. Suppose today is as good as any."

"Alright, now let me take a look at your back. Can you sit up?"

Johnny nodded and gingerly pushed himself upright.

..********..

By the time Sam finished changing the dressing Johnny was exhausted. Beads of sweat covered his face and chest.

"Do you want something for the pain?" Sam knew the young man had to be in agony.

Shaking his head, Johnny closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain and his churning stomach.

"Gonna' be sick, Doc," Johnny gasped as he tried to roll onto his side. A washbasin appeared next to his head.

For the next few minutes, Johnny heaved and then dry-heaved until there was nothing left to come up.

"You're dehydrated." Sam held a glass of water to Johnny's lips.

Johnny took a tentative sip to see if there was any medicine in the water. When he found none, he eagerly took a swallow and then another. The water felt good going down his dry, irritated throat. Finally, Johnny waved the glass away.

"Doc, I don't feel much like seeing the old man and Scott right now." Johnny was breathing hard. Closing his eyes, he settled back into the bed.

"Alright, I'll tell them you're sleeping." Sam picked up Johnny's wrist, checking his pulse. "And John, you need to stop calling your father 'old man'."

Johnny gave Sam a faint smile.

"I'll think about it, Doc. Thanks for your help." Johnny buried his head into his pillow. It didn't take long for his breathing to level out.

Sam picked up his medical bag and started downstairs, trying to think of what he was going to tell Murdoch and Scott. He went back over the conversation he'd had with Johnny. Shaking his head, he wondered if the young man would settle at Lancer.

It was obvious Johnny wasn't sure where he belonged or who he was. Maybe the question was, not who he was, but who he would choose to be.

.

Chapter 5

(Written by SandySha)

Murdoch was on his feet and moving toward the stairs the moment he saw Sam. Scott quickly followed his father.

"Well?" Murdoch's question didn't wait for Sam to make it down the steps.

"Let me get a drink and sit for a minute." Sam found his way to a chair and collapsed.

Scott moved to the drink cart, pouring Sam a Scotch before walking the drink to the waiting hands of the tired Doctor.

Sam took a long drink and sighed. Looking up, he saw Murdoch and Scott still standing, staring at him.

"He woke up."

The relief on Murdoch and Scott's face was instant. Murdoch was turning toward the stairs before Sam could get the next words out.

"But he's asleep now."

Murdoch stopped mid-stride and turned back to Sam.

"I changed his bandages, and it wore him out. Right now, he needs food and rest more than he needs company."

"So, he's going to be alright?" Scott asked.

Sam smiled. "In time. As I said, he needs food and rest. He's dehydrated, and you can see for yourself he hadn't been eating well for some time before he was wounded."

"We read the final Pinkerton report. It came in a few days ago." Murdoch slumped into a chair. "John spent three months in a Mexican prison before the Pinkerton Agent found him. The man got there just in time. The Rurales were standing him in front of a firing squad when the agent stopped them."

"A Mexican prison!?" Sam repeated. "That explains a lot. Those places are hell holes. I can only imagine the abuse…" Sam stopped himself. They'd all seen the marks on the boy's body.

"I'm sure he didn't have much in the way of food, either," Scott joined in. "I suspect the day we arrived was the first real meal he'd had in quite some time."

Murdoch waited a moment. "Did he say anything else, Sam?"

Sam knew he would never repeat the conversation he'd had with Johnny.

"Not really. As I said, changing the bandage wore the boy out. He was asleep almost immediately after I finished."

"I'll go sit with him." Scott stood and started for the stairs.

Murdoch nodded. "I'll be up shortly." Turning to the doctor. "Sam, will you stay for dinner?"

"I can't." Sam stood and sat his glass down. "I need to get back to town. I'll be back tomorrow."

Sam knew if he stayed Murdoch would only question him further. Picking up his medical bag, he started for the door. Murdoch walked him out. As he got into his buggy, Sam turned to his friend again.

"Murdoch, don't push the boy for answers right now. He needs time to heal."

"But I have so many questions, Sam," Murdoch sighed.

"I know you do, but give it time." Sam flicked the buggy reins, and the buggy jolted forward.

Murdoch watched Sam drive away. He wondered what was said between the Doctor and his youngest son.

Starting back inside, Murdoch made up his mind to give Johnny the time he needed. However, he'd already waited twenty years for answers and, by God, was going to get them, one way or another.

..********..

The sound of voices lilted through the open window. A slight breeze caused the curtains to rustle.

Johnny's eyes slowly opened. Blinking, he realized it was early morning.

"Good morning." Johnny recognized Scott's voice.

Turning his head, he saw his brother leaning forward in the chair next to the bed. Scott had a smile on his face.

"Morning." Johnny tried to clear his head. "Kind of lost track of time. What morning is it?"

"If you're asking how long has it been since you were shot, then it's been 12 days."

Scott stood and moved to the table, reaching for a glass of water. He brought the glass back to Johnny, offering it to him.

Johnny nodded and tried to reach for the glass with his right hand. He quickly realized he wasn't going to be able to hold the glass even if Scott handed to him.

"Let me." Scott moved closer. Bending, he lifted Johnny's head and placed the glass to his lips. He smiled when his brother started to drink.

When Johnny finished, Scott sat the glass down. Standing beside the bed, he assessed the younger man. Johnny was weak, but for the first time in days, he was awake and seemed to be alert.

"I'll let Murdoch and Teresa know you're awake. Teresa has some broth on the stove waiting for you. Do you need anything before I get them?"

"Yeah, I need…, well." Johnny looked around, embarrassed.

"Right here." Scott reached under the bed for the chamber pot. "I'll help you sit up. Do you think you can manage?"

Johnny smirked at Scott. "Yeah, I think I can manage."

Scott laughed. "Alright, then."

Scott helped Johnny to sit up and swing his legs off the side of the bed. As Johnny took care of his business, Scott turned to look out the window. A few moments later, Scott heard Johnny clear his throat. Turning around, he saw the younger man using his foot to push the chamber pot back under the bed.

"Let me help you back into bed; then I'll get you something to eat."

Scott got Johnny back in bed and was heading for the door when he heard Johnny's voice, so soft he almost missed the words. "Thanks, Scott."

Scott smiled. "You're welcome, Brother. I'll be right back."

Johnny laid back, trying to relax. He felt better today than he had in a long time. His back still hurt, but nothing he couldn't handle. Putting a hand on his ribs, he pressed gently and felt no pain. Pushing a little harder, he found only minor soreness.

With a downturned head, Johnny thought about what he was going to do next. He was healing quickly. Soon, he'd be able to start walking. Only a few more days, he thought. Only a few more days and he could ride away.

.

Chapter 6

(Written by SandySha)

Maria hummed as she sliced bread for the family's lunch. There was a smile on her face because the Patron was happy, and for the first time in days, there was a smile on his face. It had been a long time since she'd seen the Patron as happy as he was now.

Maria had been there for both of the Senora Lancers. Senora Catherine's golden hair, fair skin, and light blue eyes were a contrast to Senora Maria's dark hair and features. Both women had been beautiful, full of life, and each so different from the other.

Maria, along with everyone on the ranch, had mourned the passing of Senora Catherine and the loss of the baby she was carrying when she left Lancer. She, Cipriano, and Paul O'Brien had stood with the Patron through his mourning. Their ray of hope in those days was that baby Scott would be brought home to Lancer where he belonged. When that didn't happen, it was as if a dark veil settled over the ranch.

When the Patron brought Senora Maria to the estancia, the veil was suddenly gone. Senora Maria was young and free-spirited. New energy and life pulsed through the ranch.

The day the nino was born, the Patron was grinning from ear to ear; he was so proud of his hijo. And oh, what a child Juanito had been. His first breath was a scream that was heard all the way to the bunkhouse. The ranch hands and vaqueros had sent up a cheer and drank a toast to the new addition to the Lancer family.

Juanito was not one to be held back. Even from the first, he did everything his way. There was nothing typical or predictable about the little one. He'd kept his Mama and Papa running from early morning until he collapsed at night, lying on his stomach, rear-end in the air, thumb in his mouth.

Yes, Maria and Cipriano had been there for it all.

It still hurt to think about the day they awoke to find Senora Maria and Juanito missing. Cipriano had held her in his arms while she wept. But the Patron…not even Senor Paul could console the Patron.

Then there were the months the Patron was gone, searching the border towns for his esposa and hijo. Finally, the tired and defeated man had come home, empty-handed.

Life had gone on at the ranch, but its heart had stopped beating. No one dared speak of Senora Maria or the nino.

Now, Juanito was back. No longer a nino but to Maria, he would always be her Juanito, the child of her heart.

Maria took a deep breath and let it out. Too much thinking about what had been and could never be changed. Now she thought about what was. The young man sitting in the next room needed something to eat. He was too thin.

Smiling, Maria fixed a tray and started to the Great Room.

..********..

Johnny had been sitting on the sofa most of the morning. It felt good to get out of the room upstairs. Still unable to believe any of this was permanent, he couldn't bring himself to call it his room.

Hearing Maria in the kitchen, Johnny smiled. The woman had hovered over him like a 'mother hen' since he'd woken up.

If he admitted it to himself, he enjoyed the mothering. There were a lot of things he liked about being at Lancer. The food was one of them. Having all he could eat anytime he wanted would be a new experience. Sleeping in a soft bed and having a room of his own was another. As his hand brushed the butt of the Colt in his waistband, he wondered if the day would come when he would feel safe here.

Yes, life at Lancer could be good. The problem with Lancer was going to be him. This family wanted him to be someone he wasn't. They wanted him to be John Lancer. The trouble was, he wasn't John Lancer, he was Johnny Madrid. He didn't know how to be John Lancer.

Imagine Johnny Madrid becoming a reputable rancher, with a respectable name.

"Juanito?"

Maria's voice brought Johnny out of his musings. Looking up, he watched the woman coming toward him with a smile on her face and a tray in her hands.

"You are hungry?"

"Si."

Johnny gave Maria one of his warmest smiles, knowing she would not take 'no' for an answer.

"Bueno. Now you must eat everything."

Maria sat the tray on his lap and stood back, appraising him. Her nino was still too pale and much too thin. She'd noticed that he hadn't fully regained his appetite. The first night he'd been home, Juanito had eaten as if there would be no tomorrow. She shuddered. There almost hadn't been for the nino.

Johnny looked down at the food on the tray. There was enough to feed three of him, though he knew better than to say anything to the smiling woman standing over him. Nodding, Johnny picked up the fork. Taking a bite, he forced himself to chew.

Satisfied that Johnny was going to eat, Maria went back to the kitchen.

Johnny laid the fork down. He had no appetite and knew he wouldn't until he'd made a decision.

Johnny knew he should be on his way and cursed his fate at being shot again. If Pardee's bullet hadn't found him, he would have taken his money and rode away the day of the battle. Now, everyone assumed he was staying.

.

Chapter 7

(Written by SandySha)

Scott stepped into the Great Room, taking off his hat and gloves. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the boy sitting in a chair near the fireplace.

Johnny's head was down, and there was a slump to his shoulders, fingers tapping his right thigh where his holster usually sat. There was no doubt he was bored and restless.

Scott still didn't know much about his younger brother, but they'd all found out when Johnny was bored and restless, he was soon irritable. When Johnny was irritated, his temper flared. That, in turn, ignited Murdoch's temper. It became a vicious circle, quickly followed by Murdoch's raised voice, doors slamming, and the two stubborn Lancer men scowling at each other.

Unfortunately, it didn't take much to set Johnny off. Murdoch had made the mistake of asking Johnny about his mother. The resulting battle of wills put everyone's nerves on edge, sending Murdoch stalking out of Johnny's room and directly to the drink cart.

If Murdoch was looking for answers, he wasn't going to get them from Johnny until and unless he was ready to talk, which he wasn't.

Johnny had been chomping at the bit to get out of the house since Sam Jenkins said he could get out of bed. Sam had left a little over an hour ago, telling the two older Lancers that Johnny was making progress. Still, he didn't want him riding for another week.

Scott had come up with a solution to relieve some of the boredom Johnny was experiencing and at the same time find out more about his brother.

Clearing his throat, Scott watched to make sure Johnny knew he was in the room if he didn't already. The entire household had found out first hand; it wasn't wise to startle a man who had made his living with a gun. Coming face to face with the barrel of a Colt .45 wasn't an experience this older brother wanted to repeat.

Johnny turned his head to see Scott moving across the room. He'd heard him come in several minutes earlier and waited to see what his brother wanted. When Scott cleared his throat, Johnny hid a wisp of a smile.

"Johnny, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, also." Scott smiled at Johnny's answer.

"You want something, Boston?"

"Yes, I do, little brother. I'm going for a ride and wonder if you wanted to go with me?"

Johnny slowly raised his head and eyes. "I'd like that fine, but the Doc says I can't ride for another week."

"Well, as your older brother I'm going to override the Doctor's orders and take you for a short ride. I do mean short, and it will be at a walk. If you agree, we can leave as soon as you have a jacket."

Johnny snorted. "You willing to take the wrath of the old man and the Doc for me… Brother?"

"I am. Now go get ready, and don't forget your jacket."

Johnny gingerly pushed himself from the chair with a grin on his face. Nodding, he headed for the stairs for his gun belt.

..********..

The brothers had been riding for half an hour. Their destination was a small lake Scott had discovered the week before while riding with Cipriano.

Scott flatly refused to let his brother ride the half-broke palomino Johnny had named Barranca. Instead, one of the hands had saddled a more docile bay gelding for Johnny.

Willows and cottonwoods lined the blue-green lake. A slight breeze sent ripples across sparkling water, cooling the surrounding area.

Finding a suitable place, Scott stopped, dismounted and waited for his brother.

Johnny tied off his horse and watched as Scott untied a blanket he had behind his saddle. Spreading the blanket on the ground next to a tree, Scott motioned Johnny to sit.

Easing himself onto the blanket, Johnny leaned against the tree, closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn't as ready for a ride as he'd thought.

"I see you didn't bring a jacket." Scott lowered himself to sit next to Johnny.

Johnny huffed. "Boston, I don't own a jacket. The only one I did own … well, Maria said she had to cut it off me."

The memory of that day sent a slight tremor through Scott.

"We'll have to rectify that problem," Scott said, trying to lighten the moment.

"Rectify? What's that mean?"

"I mean, we'll have to get you some new clothes."

"Oh… yeah, I'll have to 'rectify' that problem." Johnny chuckled.

"I notice you only have one shirt as well."

Johnny was wearing the red shirt he'd worn the first day they'd met on the stage.

"My other shirt is in the same shape as the jacket. Maria said there wasn't any way to save either of them."

"You had only two shirts, one jacket, and …." Scott looked at the pants Johnny was wearing. The leather pants with the silver conchos on the sides still fascinated him. "How many pairs of pants do you own?"

"You're looking at them," Johnny answered. "I have a saddlebag. I travel light and can't fill it with clothes."

"What do you fill it with?"

"Bullets." The answer was quick and emotionless.

A silence settled between them as Johnny once again closed his eyes, enjoying the cooling breeze coming off the water. Opening his eyes, he saw Scott staring at him.

"You want something, Scott?"

"I'd want to get to know you; get to know my brother."

Johnny gave Scott a faint smile. "Might not like what you find out."

"I'll take my chances."

"You sure you want to know?

"Yes. Yes, I do. Why did you choose to be a gunfighter?"

"Choose? Hell, Scott, I didn't have much in the way of choices, or so I thought. When I was a kid, I had a choice between learning to run faster than the other boys or being beaten up because of my blue eyes. The choice was simple; I learned to run."

"Did that happen often?" Scott leaned back, trying not to show emotion at what Johnny had said. He couldn't imagine a child beaten because he had blue eyes.

"Yeah, more times than I can remember. When I got older, after Mama was gone, the choices were harder, but still, there weren't many. I worked when I could, when someone would hire me. There weren't many who'd hire a blue-eyed mestizo; it wasn't good for business. So, I had the choice of stealing or starving." Johnny shrugged. "When I didn't have money, I stole."

Johnny took a breath, lowering his head. "You sure you want to hear this?"

"Quite sure."

Scott wanted to ask about Johnny's mother but didn't want his brother to stop talking. He, like Murdoch, assumed Maria was dead, but Johnny hadn't said one way or the other. The subject, Scott knew, was sensitive.

"Most times, when I stole, I didn't get caught; sometimes I did. When they did catch me, they either beat me, or I'd spend time in jail." Johnny could see Scott start to interrupt. He raised a hand. "No, jail wasn't always bad, at least not north of the border. Jail meant I got three meals a day, a warm bed, and a roof over my head."

"How old were you?"

"I don't know." Johnny shrugged again. "Nine or ten, the first time."

"They put you in jail? But you were just a child."

"Had enough?"

Scott shook his head and repositioned himself against the tree to get more comfortable.

"Boston, I met some real nice people in jail, at least to me they were, and there were some not so nice. The nice ones taught me how to defend myself against the not so nice.

"I learned a lot in jail. Bet you wouldn't believe I learned to play chess. Found out I was good at it. So good that I learned to read the fellow I was playing. I could see in my mind what he was going to do before he even knew.

"There was this one gringo who said I was a natural born strategist. I didn't know what that meant at first, but when he told me I felt proud of myself. I think that was the first time in my life I felt proud. Proud of something I could do."

"So, you play chess." Scott smiled. They did have something in common. "I consider myself quite good at the game. We'll see just how good you are tonight if you feel up to the challenge."

"Oh, I think I can give you a run for your money," Johnny answered with a laugh.

"Go on. Now I'm fascinated."

Johnny cocked his head and then finally nodded. He wondered how much it would take to make this man realize he didn't want Johnny Madrid for a brother…didn't want him.

"I learned a lot more than chess in jail, and I made a few friends. One of those friends was a gringo pistolero. He asked me a question not many seemed to want to know."

Scott licked his lips and took a breath, almost afraid of the question. "What did he ask?"

"Four words, just four words. ' _What's your name, boy.'_ That's all he asked. Few ever asked me that question."

"Your answer?"

Johnny hesitated a moment before continuing. "South of the border, I told anyone who asked, my name was Juanito. When I went North, my name was Johnny. Only a very few ever asked for a last name. When they did, I usually made one up. There were a few times I'd slip and tell them my name was Lancer, but that's not who I was or ever wanted to be."

Johnny stopped and looked at Scott. He could see the confusion on Scott's face.

"Mama told me he kicked us out. Why the hell would I want to use the name of the man who did that to us; who didn't want me?"

"But you know that was a lie. You believe Murdoch didn't send you or your mother away, don't you?"

Johnny didn't answer right away. "I know what Teresa said. I haven't heard it from the old man and until I do…."

His father had rejected him. Yes, he'd known who the bastard was even back then. His mother had told him all about the great Murdoch Lancer. Lancer wasn't a name he would ever claim until he believed otherwise.

"After a while, I started going by Johnny all the time. You know that's the second decision I can remember, that was my own. I chose to be a pistolero, and I chose the name Johnny. Then one day I made another choice. I chose the name Madrid. That's who I've been ever since."

Scott cleared his throat. "How old were you?"

"How old was I when I picked up a gun for the first time? Eleven or twelve. You see I was back to choices. I could either learn to defend myself or die. Dying didn't sit well with me, so again, the decision was simple."

What he didn't tell Scott was that the price to become Johnny Madrid had been steep, but he'd been willing to pay it. He'd been back to choices alright; pay the price or die. Like he told Scott the decision was simple.

"It was hard for a half-Mex kid with a gun to get work. To get the better-paying jobs a pistolero has to be good with his gun. To get good, he has to practice, and, Dios, did I practice. I spent hours practicing until my fingers bled and my muscles were so sore, I couldn't lift my arm."

Johnny was quiet for a long time. Scott thought that perhaps he was done talking. But there was more, so much more he wanted to know.

"Are you tired? We can go back if you want."

Johnny shook his head. "No, not tired. Just not sure you're ready to hear any more."

"If you feel up to it, I'd like to know more. I take it you're fast with your gun, with all that practice?

"You can say that." Johnny laughed. "It took me months to get good. Becoming the best, well …that took a little longer."

"One day, I was a half-breed kid wandering the streets of border towns trying to survive. The next day, I was standing in those same streets with a Colt strapped to my leg dealing out death. The transition between the two was as natural as breathing and as hard…well, as hard as selling my soul.

"Is that what you wanted to know, Scott? Had enough?"

Would this be the final straw for Scott? Johnny didn't know why the thought of Scott's rejection bothered him. He hardly knew the man, but for the first time in his life he felt the beginnings of a connection with someone, and he didn't want to lose it.

"How much longer?" Scott asked hesitantly.

"What?" Johnny looked at Scott, surprised he was even still sitting next to him.

"How much longer did it take you to become the best?"

"A few months," Johnny answered with another shrug.

"I've heard talk, rumors…"

"Talk?" A dark cloud formed on Johnny's face. "Someone talking about me?"

"Of course, they're talking about you," Scott chuckled. "Little brother, you are the talk of the ranch. Being your brother has become quite a boon. If I were back in Boston, I'd be on every social calendar in the city. Being the brother of a legendary gunfighter, I'd have women swooning all over me."

"Boon? What's that?"

Scott laughed. "It means a blessing or a bonus. In your case, I would say a godsend."

"You making fun of me, Boston?" Johnny's voice went soft and cold.

Scott was taken aback by the sudden change in his younger brother. "Never. I would never make fun of you, John."

"Because you're afraid I'll shoot you?"

"Well, there is that." Scott laughed.

Johnny huffed. "Never been called a boon before. Faced a lot of men who didn't feel that way about me."

"The men you 'worked' with; I assume they weren't always…" Scott searched for the word.

"The men I 'worked' with were scum, Scott. Well, most of them. There were a few who lived by a code. Early on, I was back to choices. I could either fall to the level of the scum or live by a code, a more honorable code. So, I chose to live by a code, my own."

"Your code is different from the code we talked about that first day?"

"You could say that."

"One of the men in the bunkhouse had a dime novel about Johnny Madrid. It made for some interesting reading."

Johnny dipped his head, taking a deep breath.

"I bet it did. Those damn books have cursed me since the first one came out. They made me famous."

"Famous or infamous?

"Yeah, they paint a pretty bad picture of me, don't they?"

"That they do. Is there any truth in them?"

"Oh, there's a lot of truth, alright, but a lot of bull, too."

"So, are you as fast as Wes Harden, Clay Allison, or Dallas Stoudenmire like the books say?"

"Don't know, never went up against any of them. We try to stay out of each other's way. It's healthier that way.

"Look, Scott, I had nothing but a gun. I wanted a name. I'd never had a name before, not really. I wanted to be Johnny Madrid and the only way I knew to become Madrid, was to use this."

Johnny pulled the Colt from his holster and held it up. He turned it, admiring the way the sun reflected off the polished steel. Lowering the gun, he put slid it back in his holster and looked at Scott again.

"I needed a reputation and, in the beginning, I didn't care what I had to do to get it. If someone got in my way, I killed them. I took any job I could get; did anything anyone wanted doing. Every man I killed was one more step closer to that reputation; a step closer to being Madrid."

"Johnny, I killed in the war…"

"The war!" Johnny's voice raised as he pushed his back away from the tree. "That's different, and you know it. You killed in the war for what… God and country? I killed for money and a reputation."

Johnny closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Leaning back again, he lowered his voice. "I killed for money and a reputation, Scott. It wasn't until I was older, I realized the price I'd paid to become Madrid. I'd sold my soul to the devil, and I kept right on selling it every time I met a man in the street, but there was no turning back."

"Did you ever kill just for the sake of killing?"

Johnny shook his head. "No, never just for the sake of it. I killed to survive at first, then later, as my reputation grew, to defend myself. I won't lie to you; most of the men I've killed deserved to be dead."

"So, you're not the heartless, cold-blooded killer in those dime novels, are you? You, Brother, have a heart and a soul, whether you believe it or not."

There was a deafening silence between them. The only sound was leaves rustling in the trees above them and the water lapping on the shore of the lake.

"The final Pinkerton report came in on you a few weeks ago." Scott broke the silence after a few minutes.

"Did it make good reading? Bet the old man loved reading about his 'infamous' son."

"Tell me about the firing squad." Scott hoped he hadn't asked too much too soon. So far, he'd learned more about Johnny in one morning than he ever thought he'd know.

"I got mixed up in a 'revolution' down in Sonora. Scott, folks down there are dirt poor. They scrape a living out of nothing. Then comes along a man like Don Miguel de la Vega. He's the jefe in those parts. That means he's the big man, the boss. Don Miguel got rich on the backs of the peons. So, when the peons came to me for help, I couldn't turn my back on them."

"From what I understand you're a… what do they call it… a high-priced gun. How did they afford you?"

Johnny huffed. "You see that's what them dime novels don't tell you. I figured a long time ago that I'd earned the right to work the jobs I wanted. I split my time between paying jobs and jobs I work for short money. Jobs that pay me with food and a place to sleep."

"So, you were risking your life for those people, and they paid you in room and board?"

Johnny nodded. "The sad truth was I knew the cause was lost before the first shot was fired. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't listen. I could have walked away, turned my back and left, but that isn't my way.

"I was right; the 'revolution' was over with the first battle. The men who fought were either killed or captured by the Rurales. I ended up getting caught with a bullet in my shoulder. It didn't take long to realize the dead were the lucky ones."

"The report said you were in that prison for three months before the firing squad?"

"Yeah." Johnny swallowed hard, remembering those three months. "There was a Captain there who thought he'd hit pay dirt when he got his hands on me Strutted around bragging how he'd brought down the 'great' Johnny Madrid. One day he got tired of trying to break me and put me and three others in front of a firing squad. If Murdoch's Pinkerton Agent hadn't shown up when he did, we wouldn't be having this conversation and you'd own fifty percent of a ranch."

"We saw the scars on your back."

Johnny didn't say anything for a long time. When he did speak, there was no sign of Madrid in his tone.

"So, Scott, you know all there is to know about Johnny Madrid or at least all I'm gonna tell you. You still want to claim me for a brother?"

"I know it may be hard for you to believe but, yes I do, very much so."

Johnny looked Scott in the eyes and knew he was telling the truth.

_Why would he want me as a brother?_

"You're not planning on staying, are you?" Scott knew the truth before he asked the question.

Johnny lowered his head. He was starting to like this man; this brother he'd always wanted.

"No, I can't stay. I've worked too hard for the name I've got; paid too high a price for the choices I've made. I can't give it up, and the old man can't see his way past it."

"So, make another choice. There's nothing that says a man can't walk more than one path in his life. Johnny, choose another path. Stay and make a new life at Lancer."

"I can't. Scott, there's been a price for every choice I've made in my life. I've paid for the name Madrid with my blood and my soul. It's who I am. No one is going to ask me to give it up. No one."

Scott knew now wasn't the time to fight the battle. He needed to talk to Murdoch. They had to find a way to keep Johnny at Lancer.

..********..

By the time they rode back to the house, Johnny was falling out of the saddle. With the help of Cipriano, Scott and Murdoch got the tired man undressed and into bed.

He was asleep before they could get out of the room.

.

Chapter 8

(Written by SandySha)

In the Great Room, Murdoch sat behind his desk, watching Scott move to the drink cart.

"I take it you need that drink?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Did you and John talk?"

"We talked. Well, Johnny talked and I listened."

"And…?"

"Your son, my brother, is an extremely complex young man. He's lived more in his short life than most men live in three lifetimes."

Murdoch turned his chair and stared out the window. He wanted to know what his sons had talked about but didn't want Scott to break any confidences.

"He's not planning on staying." Scott blurted the words out.

Murdoch spun his chair around, looking at Scott in disbelief.

"He said that? He said he wasn't staying?"

Scott nodded.

"Sir, you need to talk to him. There are too many years of hurt and anger for him to forget them in a few short weeks. Johnny truly believes what his mother told him, and until he hears differently from you, he'll continue to believe it."

"You said Teresa…"

"Teresa told him, yes, but he needs to hear it from you. He needs to hear it from his father."

"It's so hard for me to talk to him. You're right; there's so much anger. We both have tempers and …."

"Do you want him to stay?"

"Yes, of course, I want him to stay. I want my son."

"Which son do you want?"

Murdoch looked confused.

"You want John Lancer; there's no doubt about that. Can you live with having Johnny Madrid as your son, because that's who he is? He spent a great deal of time today explaining what choices he had to make and the price he paid to become Madrid. He won't give it up easily."

"I'll talk to him. I'll make him understand."

"Murdoch, Johnny is a man with two names, but he's still the same man regardless of which name he uses. I believe he's a good man. I want to get to know him better. If you can't find a way to hold him here, he will leave. Of that, I have no doubt."

"And will you leave as well?"

"No, sir, I've just found my father. I want to get to know him."

Murdoch smiled. He could see Catherine in their boy. Scott had her looks and her temperament. He only wished Johnny hadn't inherited so much of his mother.

.

Chapter 9

(Written by SandySha)

_Out of bed at 5:00 a.m. Breakfast at 6 a.m._ _**sharp** _ _. Lunch at 11:30_ _**sharp** _ _. Dinner at 6 p.m._ _**s** _ _**harp** _ _. In bed by 9 p.m._

Those were the Murdoch Lancer's rules. Madrid had never lived by anyone's rules, but his own. Now they were expecting him to become a Lancer and live by Lancer rules. Johnny didn't know if he could do it. Hell, he knew he couldn't do it.

Looking around the dinner table, Johnny felt uncomfortable. It was his first night to eat with the family since Pardee's bullet.

He'd never understand how you could force yourself to eat at a specific time. They sat down at 6:00 sharp. He hadn't been hungry, but that didn't seem to matter to the 'tune caller.' Now it was 6:15, and he'd finished. The others, however, were still eating and talking. He had no idea what they were talking about and could have cared less.

Johnny leaned back in his chair. The moment his back touched the chair, he flinched. The bullet wound was still tender.

It had been almost five weeks since he'd taken Pardee's bullet. The first two weeks he'd been in a fever haze and remembered little of it. Not used to lying around and letting someone take care of him, Johnny was bored to tears at the end of a month. If Scott hadn't taken him for a ride, he knew he'd have probably shot someone by now.

Johnny had done a lot of thinking in the last three weeks. He was back to choices, and he wasn't sure which to make. The most obvious choice was to pick up his saddlebags, saddle his horse, and ride away.

The old man kept talking about the partnership agreement. Johnny wondered if he could settle in one place; if he could learn to follow someone else's rules? Could he become the son Murdoch Lancer wanted?

..********..

"What do you say we move to the Great Room while Teresa and Maria clear the table?"

Murdoch pushed back from the table with a smile on his face. He had both of his sons with him tonight; there wasn't anything he could think of that pleased him more.

Scott seated himself on the sofa while Johnny moved to one of the chairs.

Murdoch could see Johnny looking nervously around. He wondered what the boy was thinking.

"Tomorrow we'll go into town. Mr. Randolph has the partnership agreement ready for our signatures. I thought we'd have lunch in town and then celebrate here tomorrow night," Murdoch happily announced as he moved to the drink cart.

Pouring a drink for himself, he turned to Scott, who nodded. Looking at Johnny, Murdoch could see an uneasiness to his posture.

"John, would you like a glass of Glenlivet?"

Johnny cocked his head.

"Scotch." Murdoch realized Johnny didn't know what Glenlivet was. "The finest Scotch whiskey made. It comes from my homeland, Scotland."

"Tequila." Johnny's eyes roamed across the drink cart. He knew there wasn't any tequila, just like there hadn't been any that first night. He didn't know why that still bothered him.

Murdoch looked perplexed. He also looked at the cart. There was no tequila. He kicked himself. He knew his youngest had asked for it on the first night. He couldn't understand why he hadn't picked up a bottle in town. Well, he would see to it tomorrow.

"I'm sorry, John, there's only scotch and cognac. Would you care for either?"

Johnny didn't respond right away.

"I'll pick up a few bottles of tequila tomorrow in town," Murdoch quickly added.

The silence in the room was deafening. Finally, Johnny answered without emotion, "Scotch then and don't worry about the tequila. I'll get my own."

Murdoch handed a glass to Johnny and took a seat in the chair opposite him. Trying to relax, Murdoch gulped his drink.

Scott glanced first at Johnny and then at Murdoch, feeling the tension in the room.

"Can you go into more detail on the agreement, Sir?" Scott spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Yes, well…." Murdoch leaned back. "It's a simple enough agreement. Lancer and all of its assets will be split equally. One third to each of us. That includes the land, stock – both cattle and horses, and any other properties or assets. Over the years, I've invested in stocks and bonds both in California and back east. But the main asset is the ranch itself."

Murdoch took a sip of his drink, watching the expressions on his sons' faces. Scott was taking every word in, nodding as Murdoch spoke. Johnny, on the other hand, appeared bored, as he stared at the untouched drink in his hand.

"As I said on the first day, equal shares but I call the tune. Which means I have the final say on all aspects of the ranch and assets. There are other provisions as well, including one that prevents any of us selling his share and one that stipulates that should any one of us leave the ranch, his share automatically goes to the remaining partners."

Scott shifted position. "Isn't that a little harsh? So, you're saying that should I go back to Boston for a visit, my share passes to you and Johnny?"

"No, of course not."

"That 'provision' was put in there for my benefit, Boston," Johnny spoke up in a soft, icy voice.

"You see the old man wants to make sure that if I go back to fighting, you'll own 50 percent of a ranch."

"Is that true?" Scott asked point blank.

Murdoch's face reddened. He didn't care for Johnny's tone. "It means that should any of us leave with the intent of not returning, his share passes to the others."

"I assume you'll make sure it's spelled out better than you've explained it."

"Yes, of course."

Scott turned to Johnny. "Would you go back to your former profession?"

Johnny huffed. "Former profession? Boston, I haven't quit my profession, as you call it."

"John, you're not a gunfighter any longer. You're a rancher. You have a proud name…"

"STOP!" Johnny bolted from his chair, grabbing his left shoulder as he did. His breath hitched as pain shot through his back.

The sudden movement and loud tone caused the other two men in the room to jump.

Johnny walked across the room before turning to look at his father.

"Just stop! You don't understand. Neither of you understands."

"Understand what?" Murdoch was on his feet.

Johnny shook his head.

"What's wrong, John?"

Johnny shook his head again, turning away. Looking back, he wondered about this man. The man his mother said had thrown him out like the garbage. There wasn't any trust between them. He wondered if there ever would be.

"My name's Johnny, not John! There is no John Lancer." Johnny paced the floor and then stopped with a deep sigh. "I can't do this."

"Do what, son?"

Johnny's head shot up.

"What?" Murdoch questioned.

"You called me son." The only time his father had called him 'son' was that one time when he was in bed and semi-conscious.

"You've never called me that before."

"I haven't? I guess I haven't Johnny. This is all new to me too. We're all trying to find our way. You're not the only one …afraid."

"I'm not…"

"Afraid? Maybe afraid isn't the right word for you, but it is for me."

Seeing Johnny's face, he quickly added. "Not afraid of you. I'm afraid I can't live up to being a father to you and your brother. Afraid we've lost too much time. Afraid… God, what am I not afraid of?"

Murdoch took a step toward Johnny. "I know this is hard."

Johnny held a hand up to silence his father. "You don't know."

"Know what?"

"Who I am. What I've done."

"I know all I need to know. You're John Lancer. That's who you are; who you've always been."

"You don't know what you're talking about, either of you. I'm Johnny Madrid; a hired gun and a damn good one. That's who I am. The price of becoming Lancer is more than I'm willing to pay."

Murdoch hesitated, thinking carefully.

"John, the price of being a Lancer was paid the day you were born."

"You're wrong, old man. You've upped the ante. The price of being a Lancer is giving up Madrid. I'm not sure I can do that; not sure I want to."

Murdoch took a breath, not knowing what to say. He had to find the right words.

"Is there room for John Lancer in there somewhere?"

Johnny lowered his head, breathing hard.

"I don't know, old man. I paid one hell of a price to be the best. You don't want to know what I paid. Scott knows, but you don't, and you don't want to know."

"Alright, son, but let me ask you, will you try?"

"Try?"

"Will you try to give up Madrid?"

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Take your pick. I've spent my whole life fighting for a name. I have one now. I don't want to fight for another."

"We sign the partnership agreement tomorrow. There can only be one name on it, and that's Lancer."

Johnny looked into his father's eyes.

"John, think about it. You are John Lancer and Lancer is your home and your birthright."

Johnny knew that was bull. There was no way the old man was going to accept him. No matter how many times Murdoch said differently, Johnny knew he was going to be a disappointment to his father. It was just a matter of time.

He'd done nothing but think about leaving. Ready to go at a moment's notice, he'd even gone so far as to pack his saddlebags and stow them under his bed. He'd traveled light for so many years; he knew he didn't need to take much with him.

Hell. He should turn around and go straight to the barn, saddle Barranca, and ride out now.

Feeling confused, he felt his world spiraling away from him. Did his father really mean it? So, what happens when Madrid had to face another man down? Johnny knew it was going to happen. Would his father still feel the same way? No, he knew the truth, even if they didn't.

"I … I'm turning in. I'll see you in the morning." Johnny turned to the stairs trying to escape the two men as quickly as possible. From the other side of the room he heard Scott's voice.

"Johnny, you may not be scared, but I am. All of this is new to me, too. I want to make it work, and I mean everything; the ranch, having a father, and most of all, having a brother. I don't know if it will work, but I'm willing to give it a chance. Will you? What would it cost you to try?"

.

Chapter 10

(Written by SandySha)

Slowly, the Lancers rode into town, making an impressive sight. Murdoch and Teresa rode in the buckboard with Scott and Johnny following behind on horseback.

People in town stopped what they were doing to watch. Word had spread that Murdoch Lancer and his sons were in town to sign a partnership agreement.

Murdoch wondered what the people of Green River and the San Joaquin Valley thought about what was about to happen. His friends would be happy for him, knowing he'd spent a lifetime waiting to be reunited with his sons. But he also knew that there would be those who watched the gunfighter, Johnny Madrid, ride by with fear in their hearts.

On this day, however, Murdoch wasn't listening to anyone or anything except his own heart. His heart told him what he was doing was right. He wondered what Johnny's heart was telling him.

That morning, Murdoch had sent a letter to Richard Randolph to let him know what time they were coming to town to sign the agreement. In the message, he'd made a request that he hoped would put his youngest son's concerns to rest. He prayed the day went as he'd envisioned.

..********..

The trip into town would have been quiet if it hadn't been for Teresa, who kept up a steady stream of chatter. Johnny hadn't said more than a dozen words all morning and most of those were to make it plain he was riding into town on the palomino and, of course, wearing his gun. Both had irritated their father.

Scott watched his brother closely on the ride in. Johnny sat stiffly in the saddle, not relaxing his shoulders. Scott could see an occasional frown on the younger man's face when the ride was rough. He knew Johnny was in pain.

Dismounting, Scott stood beside his horse. Looking at the dark-haired boy, still mounted on his palomino, he wondered what he was thinking. They hadn't had a chance to talk since the night before.

After Johnny had gone to his room, he and Murdoch had stayed in the Great Room. There was a stunned silence between father and son.

Finally, it had been Murdoch who broke the silence.

"I should have guessed it wasn't going to be easy for him. From reading the Pinkerton reports, over the last few months, I knew he'd had a rough time. Everything in the reports and all I've ever heard about Johnny Madrid told me how hard he's fought to earn his reputation."

Scott shook his head in disbelief. "But he has a chance now to leave all that behind. I don't understand why he would want to continue that life when he could be safe, living here."

Scott made his way to the drink cart, refilling his glass. He looked at Murdoch, who nodded. Scott took the decanter to his father and refilled his glass. Setting the decanter down, Scott waited for Murdoch to speak.

"Scott, I don't believe John…Johnny will feel safe anywhere. You see the way he still wears his gun even in the house. I haven't said anything to him as yet, but I plan to, tomorrow after the signing. I won't have guns worn in the house."

Scott gave Murdoch a surprised look. "You realize that asking him to take that Colt off his hip is akin to asking him to go around naked? I don't think he feels safe without that gun. Perhaps in time, but not now."

Murdoch shook his head. Yes, he would have to pick his battles with his youngest son. The wearing of his gun in the house would be the hardest battle to win.

"Your brother is wild right now. He needs reining in; to be tamed."

"Sir, my brother is not a wild animal. You can't break him as you would a horse. Johnny is a proud man who has lived his entire life by his own wits. You have to give him time. Otherwise, there is no need for him to sign that piece of paper tomorrow."

"And how is he going to sign?"

"I don't know." Scott thought about the conversation he'd had with Johnny next to the lake. "Maybe it's time you gave a little. Give your son a choice. You may be surprised."

With that, the two men had gone to bed. Scott hadn't slept, and he surmised Murdoch hadn't either.

..********..

Murdoch stepped down from the buckboard, turned and helped Teresa down. Standing on the boardwalk, he watched as first Scott and then Johnny dismounted. Johnny took it slower than his brother.

The look on Scott's face spoke of anticipation and acceptance of a new future. The oldest son of Murdoch Lancer was ready to start his new life.

Johnny's darker features gave away nothing. Nothing to tell Murdoch what his youngest son was thinking or feeling.

As Johnny tied off his horse at the hitching rail, he felt a hand gently fall on his arm. Looking up, he saw the expression on Murdoch's face.

"John…Johnny," Murdoch's voice was soft. "Son, you don't know how long I've dreamed of this day; of having you and your brother by my side; for us to be a family. Just follow your heart. Please … give us a chance. Give me a chance."

Johnny slightly cocked his head and looked at his father with a longing. Dropping his head, he took a breath. He still wasn't sure he could give up all he'd fought for to claim a new life and a new name.

As the family stepped into the attorney's office, Johnny hung back. He let Murdoch go first, followed by Teresa and Scott. Hesitating another moment, he took a deep breath and made a choice.

..********..

The only conversation while they waited for Richard Randolph was Teresa, who never stopped talking. She was excited about the signing and the fact that the brothers were going to become partners in the ranch.

Finally, a door opened and Randolph stepped out.

"Murdoch, I have everything ready. Step this way." Randolph waved Murdoch ahead of him.

Pulling the rancher aside, Randolph spoke softly so that only Murdoch could hear.

"Murdoch, I've made the changes to the agreement you requested."

Murdoch nodded. "Thank you."

"Are you sure you want to do this? You know you're taking a risk."

"Yes, I want to do it, and no, there is no risk. I've waited a lifetime for my boys to come home. Everything I've built was for them. I'll not lose either of them over the words on a piece of paper."

Walking into the room, Murdoch turned to see Teresa following him. He waited a moment for Scott and Johnny. When neither came in, he went back into the waiting room. Scott opened the outer door and stepped in.

"Where's Johnny?" Murdoch asked, looking past Scott.

"Gone."

"Gone. Gone where?" The words were reminiscent of the ones he'd used on the day of Pardee's raid.

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. When he didn't follow us in, I went looking for him. Barranca's gone."

"Barranca?"

"His horse." The irritation in his Scott's voice was evident. Murdoch couldn't even take the time to learn the name his youngest son had given his horse. "His horse is gone. There's no sign of either of them."

Murdoch paled. Turning back to Randolph, he sighed. "Richard, there's a … a problem. We'll have to delay the signing until another day."

Richard Randolph looked around the room. He knew instantly what the problem was. "Of course, Murdoch. We'll reschedule when you've resolved your… problem."

Murdoch turned and left the office, leaving Scott to escort Teresa out.

"Where'd Johnny go?" Teresa asked as soon as they were on the boardwalk.

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. I suppose he wasn't ready to sign. We'll go home and wait for him."

"Yes, I'm sure he's just gone home," Teresa replied, trying to sound convincing.

..********..

The ride back to Lancer was quiet.

Teresa looked at her guardian's profile. She'd known this man her entire life. He'd been her second father, and now her only father. It broke her heart to see him hurting. No, more than hurting, he was heartbroken.

Glancing over her shoulder, Teresa could see Scott, lagging behind the buckboard. He rode with his head down, slumped in the saddle. She didn't know what to say to make them feel better.

After all they'd been through together, she couldn't believe Johnny would have left without saying goodbye to them…to her. Sighing, Teresa took a deep breath and wiped away the tear sliding down her cheek.

The buckboard came to a stop in front of the hacienda. Cipriano and Maria were there to greet the family and welcome them home. One look at the Patron's face told them something was wrong.

Looking at Teresa and Scott, they saw the same downcast faces. The absence of Johnny told them what the problem was.

"Juanito?" The word was nothing more than a whisper from Maria's lips.

Murdoch helped Teresa from the buckboard and turned to Cipriano and Maria.

"Gone. I … we were hoping John was here."

"Ido? Ido a donde?" Cipriano took a step forward. _(translation: Gone? Gone where?)_

"We don't know. John didn't come into the attorney's office with us. When Scott went to find him, he was just gone."

Maria wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. She had worked all day preparing a feast for the new family. It was to be a celebration and now… now her nino was gone.

"I'm going to check his room." Scott started for the house. "Do you remember if he's saddlebags were on Barranca when we went into town."

"No. I don't remember. I don't think so but go check his room." Murdoch turned back to his Segundo. "Cipriano, would you have one of the hands put the buckboard away and take care of the horses."

"Si, Patron." Cipriano waited a moment before speaking again. "Patron, do you wish me to go look for Juanito?"

"No, Cipriano. We'll wait for Johnny to come to us. It has to be his choice."

"Si, Patron, it is his choice, but he may need your help in making it. I know it will hard for a man such as Johnny Madrid to find peace anywhere. I only hoped that here…" Cipriano's voice faded away.

"I know. I'd hoped as well."

Scott almost ran down the stairs into the Great Room.

"His saddlebags are still here and the thousand dollars you gave him. He'll be back."

Maria and Teresa stepped out of the kitchen, both with expectant looks on their faces.

Looking around the room, Murdoch shook his head. Only a few hours ago he'd been the happiest he'd been in years. He had a family, a whole family. Now, one of his children was missing. There was a heaviness in his heart he hadn't felt in close to twenty years.

"We'll wait for Johnny to come back to us."

Murdoch's eyes went to Teresa. Hadn't she said something similar during Pardee's raid? " _He was coming back to us."_

Yes, that's what she said, and she was right. Johnny came back then, and he would now.

.

Chapter 11

(Written by SandySha)

A horse's whinny brought everyone to their feet. Moving to the door, Murdoch opened it to see the palomino Johnny had been riding standing in front of the hacienda, his reins dragging the ground.

"Scott!"

"Where is he?" Teresa ran to Murdoch's side, followed closely by Scott.

They looked around the yard; there was no sign of Johnny.

It had been ten days since the aborted signing of the partnership agreement. The ranch held its collective breath waiting for the Patron's youngest son to return.

Seven days ago, one of the Lancer vaqueros, Carlos, had ridden in to tell Murdoch there had been a gunfight in Morro Coyo. Johnny Madrid had faced one of the pistoleros who had remained in town after the battle at Lancer.

Murdoch remembered his legs had gone weak as Carlos described the gunfight. Carlos said Johnny Madrid calmly walked into the street and in the blink of an eye had drawn and fired, killing the other man. He didn't say Johnny Lancer; he said Johnny Madrid.

At that moment Murdoch wondered, not for the first time if Johnny had been right. Maybe there was no John Lancer; maybe there was only Madrid.

Scott had wanted to go to Morro Coyo to talk Johnny into returning, but Murdoch had stopped him saying, "It needs to be his decision."

So, they had waited; waited until now. Johnny's horse was here, but where was Johnny?

The sound of glass breaking brought everyone back into the house.

Murdoch, Scott, and Teresa stopped just inside the doorway. They watched as Johnny staggered across the Great Room, heading for the drink cart. It looked like he'd come in through the kitchen.

Johnny turned to look at them, a crooked grin on his face and a bottle in his hand.

"John," Murdoch was the first to speak.

"Hey, old man. I told you I'd get my own tequila." Johnny waved the half-empty bottle at them, struggling to stay on his feet.

Murdoch took a few steps forward, a smile on his face. The relief at seeing his son safe was as like lifting a weight from his chest.

"You want some?" Johnny looked at Scott. "You ever had good tequila, Boston? Mothers milk. Mothers milk, isn't it old man?"

"Yes," Murdoch took a few more steps toward Johnny, afraid that if he looked away, the boy would vanish. "There's nothing better than a good quality tequila."

"See? So, you want some?"

"Yes, I believe I would." Scott was also moving closer to Johnny.

Johnny looked toward the broken glass on the floor Dining Room floor and frowned. "Murdoch, I broke one of your fancy glasses."

"That's alright, John. What do you say to me pouring the drinks? You seem to be a little unsteady on your feet."

Murdoch was now next to Johnny. He reached out a hand, placing it on the boy's shoulder.

_Yes, he's real._

Murdoch took the bottle from Johnny and smiled.

"Are you sure you want another drink? Maybe you've had enough for tonight?"

Johnny looked up at Murdoch and sighed, then his brow furrowed as if trying to remember something. Looking back at the bottle now in Murdoch's hand, Johnny finally answered, "Guess I've had a few too many. Need to go take care of Barranca. You know he's the best horse I've ever had." Then looking up at Murdoch again, swaying slightly. "Can I keep him?"

Murdoch almost chuckled. The expression on Johnny's face was just like a small boy asking for a piece of candy.

"Yes, son, you can keep him. I'll have someone take care of him. Why don't you come with me, and we'll get you into bed?"

"Alright, but make sure they take good care of him." Johnny swayed, looking around, unsure of where to go. Then he looked at Scott. "Boston, you'll make sure they take good care of Barranca? Did you know he's the best horse I've ever had?"

"I seem to remember hearing that somewhere, little brother. I'll make sure Barranca's cared for."

"Thanks, 'cause he's got a long ride tomorrow. I want him rested up." Johnny yawned and swayed again.

"Alright, upstairs with you." Murdoch took Johnny's arm, guiding him toward the stairs.

Scott was halfway to the door when he stopped and turned. "Johnny, where is Barranca going tomorrow?"

Johnny didn't turn around as he answered.

"Tucson. Him and me got a gun job there." Johnny stopped again and looked at Murdoch. "I can keep him, can't I? You said I could keep him."

Murdoch looked at the young face of the man next to him. His son was leaving again. He'd come back for what, the money, his saddlebags, and to say goodbye? No, he wouldn't let this happen. He wouldn't lose Johnny again.

"Yes, he's yours, but I think we need to talk in the morning. Right now, young man, to bed with you." Murdoch turned to Scott. "Son, would you have one of the men see to Barranca for your brother? Once you come back, I'd like to talk to you. I'm going to get John to bed."

"Yes, sir." Scott knew what Murdoch wanted to discuss.

Scott looked at Teresa; forgetting she was still in the room. There were tears in her eyes. As he started for the door, Scott put a reassuring hand on her arm.

.

Chapter 12

(Written by SandySha)

Scott rolled over, looking toward the window. It was almost dawn, and he hadn't slept more than an hour all night. Johnny's words kept rolling around in his head. _"Tucson. Him and me got a gun job there."_

So, it was true; Johnny was going to ride away. Thoughts of locking his younger brother in his room or tying him to the bed crossed his mind. There was the old guard house. They could lock him in there.

Scott huffed. What was he thinking? They couldn't hold him at Lancer unless he wanted to stay.

Murdoch and Scott had talked the night before until both were exhausted. There was nothing they could do to keep Johnny from leaving.

Throwing his legs off the side of the bed, Scott stood and stretched. He quickly dressed and shaved. Opening his door, he noted Johnny's door still closed.

Tiptoeing across the hall, Scott opened the door and peered inside. Scott smiled when he saw Johnny sprawled face down on the bed, his sheets on the floor. Backing out of the room, he closed the door and started down the back stairs to the kitchen.

Maria and Teresa were busy fixing breakfast when Scott sat down.

"Juanito?" Maria asked with a look of despair in her eyes as she sat a cup of coffee in front of Scott.

"Still sleeping. I would imagine Johnny will be for most of the morning. He was quite drunk last night." Scott added cream to his coffee before taking a sip.

"I've told Maria about last night, Scott." Teresa moved to the table and sat down. "I told her what he said. We can't let him leave again, not forever. Walt came in this morning. He said there was another gunfight yesterday, this time in Green River. That's why Johnny was drunk. He'd killed another man. I think it tears him up inside every time he kills someone."

"I doubt…," Scott started to say.

"No, Scott. I sat with him when his fever was high, after Pardee. He has nightmares about the men he's killed. You heard them yourself. There's no doubt Johnny is faster with a gun than anyone, but he's not the heartless killer they write about in those books. Our Johnny has a soul and a heart. Scott, you've seen how easily his feelings are hurt, and then he puts on that mask, the Madrid mask, to cover the hurt."

Teresa reached out and took Scott's hand. "Scott, deep down, I think Johnny wants to find another life. God knows, he deserves another life."

Murdoch had been standing in the doorway listening. When he moved into the room, the others looked up.

"Murdoch." Teresa stood and went to her guardian. "Please try to keep him here. There must be something you can say that he wants to hear. Something to dispel the doubts he has about staying."

"Darling, I'm afraid Johnny's past the stage I can force him to do something. Yes, he's still young, but…"

"No, sir," Scott spoke up. "You can't force him. A show of force would send him out of here so fast our heads would spin. He does need you as his father to tell him you accept him, all of him. We've had this discussion several times. You know what he needs to hear. You need to find the words that will keep him here long enough for him to see this is what he wants."

"Alright, I'll go wake him. I'll talk to him and pray I can find the right words."

Murdoch took a deep breath and moved toward the stairs. Slowly, he climbed to the second floor and walked down the hallway. Standing in front of Johnny's door, he took another deep breath, turned the doorknob and opened the door.

..********..

"Scott, do you think he will be able to do it. Will he be able to convince Johnny to stay?" Teresa asked as Maria moved to her side, putting an arm around the young girls' shoulders.

"I hope so. I believe you're right. I believe Johnny does want to stay, and I know I want him here." Scott gave Teresa a reassuring smile.

"SCOTT!" Murdoch's bellowing voice carried throughout the hacienda.

Scott was on his feet and halfway up the stairs before he met Murdoch coming down. Scott backed down and waited.

"He's gone. He's gone and his saddlebags with him." Murdoch started for the Great Room, not waiting for Scott to catch up with him.

Scott was right behind Murdoch by the time the taller, longer legged man got to the front door. He was beside Murdoch by the time he was almost to the barn.

Inside the dimly lit barn, they both stopped to let their eyes adjust. The sound of movement set them both in motion again.

They found Johnny standing in Barranca's stall hanging onto the horse's neck for support. He was speaking in soft Spanish tones that only he and the horse seemed to understand.

"Johnny?" Scott slowly took a few steps forward so as not to startle his brother.

Johnny looked up, then turned back to Barranca.

"Guess I made a fool of myself last night." Johnny buried his head in the horse's neck. "Sorry."

"No, son, you didn't. You did have a great deal to drink. Are you feeling all right?" Murdoch moved forward so that he was now next to Scott again.

Johnny took a deep breath. Shaking his head, he swallowed hard.

"Gonna' be sick." Johnny ran out the back door of the barn. Seconds later, they found him on his knees throwing up.

Scott took a bucket and went for fresh water while Murdoch found a clean towel. Together they cleaned Johnny up and got him back on his feet.

"Thanks." Johnny turned and made his way back to Barranca. Reaching the stall, he picked up the saddle blanket and tossed it on the horse's back. He glanced at Murdoch and Scott as he reached for his saddle.

Murdoch took a breath and made up his mind. By damn, he was going to fight to keep his son.

Stepping forward, he put his hand on the saddle, holding it down.

"Johnny, I don't want you to go."

Johnny looked at the hand on the saddle then followed the arm up to Murdoch's face. Eyes now cold and hard, he glared at his father.

Murdoch saw the change in Johnny, but he was determined. He refused to look away.

Finally, it was Johnny who dropped his eyes.

"Son…"

"No, Murdoch, I can't stay. I've been free and on my own too long to be tied down now. I told you I wasn't good at taking orders."

"John, let me ask you a question. Do you like what you do? Do you enjoy standing in the street, not knowing if the next man you face is the one who is faster than you? Do you … John, do you want to die young?"

Johnny lowered his head.

"Well, do you? Is that what you want; to die and have nothing to show for it? John…Johnny, I'm offering you a choice. I'm offering you a family. Lancer is a big family, and I don't mean just by blood. The men and woman who work on the ranch are as much family to me as you, Scott, and Teresa. This land is your home; your birthright." Murdoch stopped to take a breath. "You have a chance to change your life. I know your reputation. You're fearless. Are you brave enough to give up that gun and become a rancher?"

"You don't know what you're asking." Shaking his head, Johnny closed his eyes.

Turning back to the saddle blanket, Johnny straightened it on Barranca's back and then reached for the saddle. As he tightened the cinch, he kept his head down.

"Son, it would break my heart to read about Johnny Madrid dying alone in a street somewhere and buried in an unmarked grave." Murdoch swallowed, trying to control his emotions. "John, we… you and Scott and me… we can do this. I'm not saying it will be easy. I know it won't be, but you owe it to yourself to try. We, all of us, have lost too much time. I don't want us to lose any more. Please stay."

"You'll be putting everyone on the ranch in danger. You've heard about Morro Coyo and Green River this week. I can't leave my reputation behind, and there will be those who won't ever let me."

"Your reputation will fade in time if you let it. I know you can't let him go all at once, but…"

Once his saddlebags were tied down, Johnny looked up once again. Looking into his father's eyes, he saw the pain he was causing but knew he couldn't stay. Taking the reins, Johnny led Barranca out of the barn.

Murdoch knew he'd lost. "Lancer will always be your home, Johnny. Come home to us, son. Please, come home."

"Take care of yourself, old man," Johnny said with a ghost of a smile. Swinging into the saddle, he turned to Scott. "Watch your back, Boston. Remember the code we talked about."

"Johnny." Scott had the word out of his mouth, but Johnny was already loping toward the arch.

Murdoch and Scott stood motionless watching horse and rider move away from them.

..********..

Johnny rode away from the Lancer hacienda and the chance at a new life. He was supposed to be going to Tucson, but now he wasn't sure where he was going, only that he needed more time to think. Without realizing it, he found himself beside the lake Scott had taken him to only a couple of weeks earlier.

Johnny looked around. With the sun high overhead, the lake turned to deep shades of blue and green. Cattle grazed in knee-deep grass at the water's edge. It was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen, and all of it could have been his.

Dismounting and walking to the edge of the lake, Johnny looked at his reflection in the water. The face in the still water was clear, but he didn't know who was looking back at him.

Only a few weeks earlier he knew who he was, but now the lines were blurred. Could he be Johnny Lancer? He didn't think so. Johnny Lancer was nothing more than a faded memory. He was Johnny Madrid, and in his heart, he knew he always would be.

The old man's words kept coming back to him.

" _Is that what you want; to die and have nothing to show for it?_ _It would break my heart to read about Johnny Madrid dying alone in a street somewhere_ _… I'm offering you a choice. I'm offering you a family… This land is your home; your birthright… Come home to us, son. Please come home."_

Sitting down and closing his eyes, Johnny pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and then laid his head on his arms. The words came again. _"I'm offering you a choice…."_

He was back to choices. This time it wasn't a choice of learning to run or be beaten. This time his choice was to stay in a life where he was sure to die young, alone or start a new life with a family where he'd never be alone again. He had a chance to have something he'd never had…a home and maybe, just maybe, someone who would love him no matter who he was.

Johnny heard Barranca pawing the ground and snorting. Looking around, he realized he'd been sitting for hours without moving. The sun was starting to set behind the mountains to the west.

He'd spent the afternoon thinking about the choices he'd made to become Johnny Madrid and the price he'd paid. Murdoch was asking only one price to become Lancer, and that was to give up being Madrid. That was the problem, wasn't it? Could he give up being Madrid?

Johnny stood up and looked around one more time. He turned to Barranca and mounted.

..********..

The Great Room was silent. Murdoch sat in a chair facing the fireplace, while Scott sat in another. Teresa had taken herself to her room before dinner with tears in her eyes.

Murdoch sighed, followed shortly with a sigh from Scott. They hadn't said more than a few words since Johnny rode away.

"Did you save me something to eat?"

The voice from the doorway had both men on their feet.

"Johnny?" A grin spread across Scott's face.

"Yeah, Boston."

"You came back?"

Johnny lowered his head. "Yeah, I came back."

Murdoch moved quickly across the room faster than anyone would have thought possible. He took Johnny in his arms and pulled him to his chest.

"Thank you, son."

Johnny was shocked by the show of affection, but in the next moment, he leaned into his father's chest. He had no words to express the way he felt.

"Why did you change your mind?" Scott moved closer, wanting to feel the warmth his father and brother were sharing.

Johnny pulled back so that he could see both men.

"Choices, Scott. You gave me choices. I needed time to think, to decide who I am… who I want to be." Johnny looked at first Scott and then Murdoch. "I don't know if this will work or not, but…"

"I told you Madrid would fade in time," Murdoch spoke up.

"Murdoch, you talk like Madrid is someone else. He's not. I am Madrid. I always have been and always will be. I've told you the price I paid for the name; for the reputation. Can you accept me; all of me? If you can't, I'll walk away now and head to Tucson like I planned."

"Johnny, you are a Lancer whether you believe it or not. So, I'll ask you the question I asked in the barn. Do you have the courage to become what you were born to be?"

Johnny looked at his father, knowing he hadn't really answered the question, but for the first time saw a ray of hope. Could he do it? Could he leave behind the life he'd worked for, paid for, bled for, and become… what had Murdoch said, "become what he was born to be?" Could he give up one life and start fresh with another?"

A faint smile started on his face. Johnny looked at Scott and then at Murdoch. It wasn't going to be easy. He knew it would be hard as hell, but Johnny Madrid had never turned away from a challenge.

"If you're sure. I mean, really sure."

"I'm sure." Murdoch turned to look at his oldest who had stood quietly to one side. "Scott, do you have anything to add?"

"No, sir. I believe you've said it all and I believe you've found the right words. Am I right, little brother? You'll stay? You'll try to make it work? I've got to tell you I have a lot to learn, and I'll need your help."

"I'm going to need to learn, too. I've worked ranches before, but only as a gun. I don't know how to run a ranch. We can learn together if the old man here will teach us."

Johnny and Scott turned to look at Murdoch at the same time. There was a smile on their father's face.

"I'll teach you, but I've got to warn you both, you'll work harder than the hands. You'll be owners, and you'll need to know how everything works. That means you'll do everything every hand on this ranch has to do. The time will come, and soon, that you'll be in charge, giving orders. The men will look to you for direction. You are the sons of the Patron. That carries weight around here."

To Johnny, those last words meant more than they did to Scott. He knew what it meant to be the hijo of the Patron. Scott was the oldest. The vaqueros would look to him first, but the others would look to both of them. It was a matter of respect, and Johnny knew it.

Johnny Madrid had earned respect with his gun. Johnny Lancer would have to earn respect with what he did and how he did it.

Johnny nodded. "Alright, old man. When do you want to sign that partnership agreement?"

Murdoch put a hand on each of his son's shoulders. They'd both chosen to stay. For the first time in a long time, he saw a future for Lancer. His legacy was standing in front of him.

.

Epilogue

(Written by SandySha)

Once again, the family was riding to Green River to sign the partnership agreement. Scott, looking to his right, saw a tension in Johnny's shoulders that seemed to become worse the closer they got to town.

_Is he having second thoughts?_

Scott didn't want to believe Johnny would balk again but wasn't taking any chances.

The buckboard stopped in front of Richard Randolph's office. Murdoch helped Teresa down and looked to his sons. Scott and Johnny dismounted and tied off their horses.

Murdoch opened the door and let Teresa go in first. Murdoch followed. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Scott pushed Johnny through the door ahead of him.

They quietly waited in the outer office. Teresa wasn't chattering away as she did the last time. She was afraid to say or do anything that would cause Johnny to bolt.

Mr. Randolph opened his office door and smiled. They were all there.

"Murdoch, come in. I'm ready for you."

Murdoch allowed Teresa to enter ahead of him. Scott stayed behind Johnny, not giving him a chance to make for the door.

As Johnny walked past the attorney, he saw the man swallow hard. Johnny let a faint smile cross his lips.

Randolph followed his clients into his office.

Standing behind his desk, Richard Randolph spread the pages of the partnership agreement out on his desk and looked around the room. Murdoch Lancer stood in front of the desk, leaning on his cane for support, a look of satisfaction and anticipation on his face.

Murdoch's oldest son was to the right of the desk, standing almost at attention, a faint smile on his face. To Randolph's left, Teresa looked on excitedly at the proceedings.

Next to Teresa stood the youngest Lancer, feet apart, the fingers on his right hand, tapping on his holster. The boy's sapphire blue eyes met Randolph's.

Randolph tensed slightly when the young man's hand settled on the butt of his gun. Quickly lowering his eyes to the pages of the agreement, he cleared his throat and began.

"I assume you've all read and agree to the agreement and its provisions?"

Randolph looked at the three men. He received nods from Murdoch and Scott. There was still no emotion on Johnny's face. Randolph had no idea what the young gunfighter was thinking.

"Well, let me summarize. The agreement gives equal ownership of the ranch called Lancer and all holdings and property currently owned by Murdoch Lancer to Murdoch Lancer, Scott Lancer, and John Lancer. Although the partnership is equal, Murdoch Lancer has the deciding vote in any aspects of the business. There are provisions for transfer and inheritance of each partner's share of the ranch and its holdings."

Randolph waited a moment before continuing. He spent the next ten minutes going into detail as to how the agreement would affect them.

Johnny remained silent, watching the faces of his father and brother. Murdoch and Scott nodded and smiled the entire time.

Impatiently, Johnny shifted from one foot to the other. Picking up the end of his stampede string, he absentmindedly put it in his mouth and started chewing. Leaning against the desk behind him, he settled into a casual slouch; his arms crossed over his chest.

Randolph stopped talking and looked again at each man. He noticed the young gunfighter still stood quietly apart from the others and had to wonder if he understood anything he'd said.

"There is one additional change to the agreement that Mr. … Murdoch Lancer has requested a change to a major provision. The provision originally stated ' _should any partner leave the business for a period of six months or longer or abandon the business with no intention of returning, that partners portion of the business reverts to the remaining partners.'_

"The provision has been rewritten and now states in layman's terms, _'once a partner, always a partner.'_ Are there any questions?"

Scott straightened his stance before speaking. "Mr. Randolph, does that mean that even if one of us leaves Lancer to do other things, the partnership agreement remains the same? There's no time limit on whether or not we return?"

Randolph took off his glasses, cleaning them. "Yes, Mr. Lancer, that's exactly what it means. Even should you decide to pursue other activities or …professions," Randolph hesitated, and looked directly at Johnny, "you will always own a third of Lancer and its holdings."

For Johnny, this was another reason to stay and try to make it work. Murdoch had given him choices. Stay or go; he would always be a Lancer in their eyes and the eyes of the law. At least that was something. If he figured out he couldn't handle being a rancher, he would still keep his birthright. He could stay and try. That's all the old man had asked, for him to try.

Picking up the pages of the agreement, Randolph neatly stacked them before placing them in the folder on the edge of his desk. Unfolding the last page of the agreement, he smoothed it out. Picking up a pen, he dipped it in the inkwell and then turning he held the pen out to Scott.

"Sign there." Randolph pointed to the second line of the document.

Scott moved forward and took the pen. He bent over the document and signed his name where Randolph indicated. Handing the pen back to the attorney, he stepped back with a smile on his face.

Randolph looked at Murdoch, again holding out the pen. "Just above your name."

Murdoch tucked the cane he was holding under his arm, bent over the desk and signed. His smile rivaled Scott's when he straightened up. His attention moved to Johnny.

Randolph turned to Johnny. "And you, sir."

Johnny watched from the sidelines as the other two signed their names. On the outside he appeared calm but, on the inside, he had a familiar tingling sensation coursing through him. Trying to control his breathing, he felt his heart beating faster.

When his turn came, he pushed off the desk and stepped forward, letting the stampede string fall from his mouth. It was then he heard Murdoch speak up.

"Mr. Randolph, I should have told you. That last name should read John Madrid… not Lancer."

Johnny halted mid-step; his breath hitched.

Without hesitation, Randolph turned back to the document as if expecting the request. "I'll fix it in a minute."

Johnny stood frozen. His eyes went from Murdoch to Scott's confused face and back.

' _What the hell was the old man trying to pull.'_

After all that talk, here he was with one foot in the door and now what? He didn't understand. Suspiciously, he looked into his father's eyes, not expecting what he saw. What was he seeing… acceptance... expectation…hope? Something else Johnny couldn't read.

That's when it hit him. The old man was giving him a gift, a choice. Choices he understood. His life had been built on choices.

Now he was being offered more than he'd had in his entire life. More importantly, his father had just told him, with one simple act, he was willing to accept John Madrid as his son and partner.

' _It was just a name on a piece of paper. What did it really matter if he signed as Lancer or Madrid? He knew who he was. He didn't have to give up being Johnny Madrid as a price to become Lancer. Hell, would it hurt to meet the man half-way?'_

There was a slight audible sigh of relief in the room when Johnny said, "No… Let it stand."

Stepping forward, he took the pen from Mr. Randolph and signed the name John Lancer for the first time.

After signing, Johnny stepped back to see a satisfied smile on his father's face. Peering into Murdoch's eyes again, the look he couldn't place earlier was now crystal clear. It was love he'd seen, although he doubted the old man would ever say the words aloud.

.

Scott and Teresa's broad smiles mirrored his fathers. Even Richard Randolph was smiling.

An unfamiliar emotion started stirring deep within him; one that almost took his breath away. Suddenly, this all felt…well, it felt right.

Johnny knew it wasn't going to be easy. For him, nothing ever was. For every choice he'd made in his life, there had been a price; there was always a price. But today he'd made a choice, and it hadn't cost him anything. All he'd had to do was choose a name to sign on a piece of paper.

Someday, perhaps, but not today and maybe not even tomorrow, but eventually he'd have to pay a price for the choice he'd made today — the price to truly become John Lancer. Maybe by then, he'd be ready.

End

June 2019


End file.
